


The Quiet of Empty Cafes (And What To Do Once It's There)

by thornsword (eeeeeeee)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Barista AU, Fluff, M/M, Phan - Freeform, kinda small!Dan au as well??, this fic came from spending too long in a cafe being annoyed at people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/thornsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Chai latte for the guy with the fancy ass suit who pushed in!” Dan and phil are baristas who enjoy calling out people when they do things like jump the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet of Empty Cafes (And What To Do Once It's There)

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!
> 
> So I’m back, despite a - really quite short - absence because this idea hit me like a freight train. 
> 
> Pairing(s): Danisnotonfire x Amazingphil
> 
> Word count: 2742
> 
> Warnings: Not edited (as per fucking usual), some swearing and OOC-ness
> 
> (written in late 2015)
> 
> Disclaimer: it’s weird enough that I write stories about two actual people who exist but now you want me to specifically state that I don’t own people? Wow, calm down. 
> 
> This actually turned out a lot fluffier than I had intended to be???
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Dan loved his job.

 

“Chai latte for the guy in the fancy suit named Paul who pushed in!” he called through stifled giggles, passing the coffee to the glaring man over the counter, “please come again!”

 

Sure, a barista wasn’t the most glamorous occupation - his friends at uni threw him sympathetic looks in October, laughed when he dragged his feet through the door at stupid hours, told him he constantly smelled of coffee and playfully asked him for free drinks every time they came in. 

 

On the upside, he got to call out all the obnoxious, pantsuit-wearing business people who liked to push in, or the _lovely_ people who were holding a conversation on the phone as they ordered, or, even better, the _I want to see the manager_ people. 

 

The _I want to see the manager_ people were the best ones. 

 

The manager was another barista named Phil. He was four years older than Dan, not to mentions funny, amazing, hella cute when he wore his glasses and had a smile like the _literal_ sun… But the best thing about Phil, was that he was the one that _taught_ Dan how to call out people. 

 

Dan remembered when he had first started - all awkwardness and red cheeks and stuttering because _I-I’m sorry, but I forgot both your name and your order, could you please repeat it?_ He remembered telling Phil the (hopefully correct) request, the older man smiling at him softly, and then, instead of a name, exclaimed;

 

_“Pumpkin spice latte for the lady named Susan who didn’t want to go easy on the new guy!”_

 

Phil’s cheeks were slightly red and his smile was strained, as if he was trying not to laugh. He looked over to Dan and gestured over to the recipient of the seasonal drink. Her fingers were poised above her phone mid-type, her jaw had slackened and she was staring at Phil incredulously. 

 

Dan couldn’t help it, he laughed. 

 

Which set Phil off. 

 

So there they were, two obnoxiously tall baristas giggling immaturely at the expense of poor Susan. 

 

She angrily marched up to the counter and snatched her drink, glaring at the other customers who had turned to look at the commotion. 

 

“I’ll take my money somewhere else then!”

 

“Please do,” Phil replied calmly, waving at her as she left the cafe.

 

Dan giggled slightly. 

 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he murmured. 

 

Phil shrugged, still smiling victoriously. “I do it all the time,” he replied easily, before walking back over to the front and asking the customer for their order. Dan wasn’t exactly surprised when his heart flutter in his chest at the smile haphazardly thrown his way.

 

It had taken him a while, but soon enough he had mustered the courage to call out someone in front of the entire coffee shop. 

 

Actually, it would be more accurate to say he mustered the _anger._

 

The man had been - quite _loudly,_ in fact - expressing his views on _“those blasted fags”_ and how _“they’re destroying everything marriage stands for,”_ and with every word he spat out, Dan could fell an insatiable rage swell up inside him. He couldn’t _believe_ there were still people like this in the world. 

 

“Large flat white for the homophobe named Julian who just got served by a gay barista!” he yelled out into the busy cafe. 

 

He heard Phil snort behind him, but Dan kept his gaze on the man’s face. His expression changed from shock to disgust to something wide-eyed and flabbergasted. 

 

He clicked his tongue in revulsion as he walked past Dan, who was still holding the coffee in his outstretched hand. 

 

_“Fag.”_

 

Without uttering another word, Julian left the coffee shop. 

 

Everything was silent. 

 

Then, slowly, conversations started back up again and Dan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

 

“Nice!” Phil laughed and Dan spun around, “I think that was one of the best ones I’ve heard.”

 

The man winked at him and Dan felt his cheeks grow warm. 

 

“Oh, and for the record - I’m gay too,” Phil told him offhandedly. 

 

-

 

Someone was waving a hand in front of his face, and it jerked him out of the reminiscing trance he had forgotten he slipped into. 

 

“Anyone home?” Phil asked playfully, moving his face _way too close_ to Dan’s. 

 

“Y-yeah,” he gulped, “just spacing out.”

 

“Well you missed a really good one,” Phil told him, pouting slightly. 

 

Dan raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh yeah?” he drawled, “I bet I’ve heard better.”

 

The taller man laughed and stuck his tongue out. “Go do your job,” he smirked, placing a hand on Dan’s lower back and pushing him slightly towards the front counter. 

 

He remained frozen for a moment, half hating, half relishing in the lingering static-shock feeling of Phil’s fingers before shaking his head and cursing himself for being so smitten. 

 

It had been six months since he started working here, and he _still had that fucking crush._

 

“How can I help you?” Dan asked the girl politely. She seemed a little younger than him, and was twirling a lock of dark brown hair around a long finger indecisively. 

 

“…I don’t know - what’s something sweet?” 

 

Dan stopped to think. “Mochas are pretty sweet I guess,” he mused, “and so are caramel macchiatos - though pretty much everything will be sweet if you add enough sugar.”

 

The girl smiled at him. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato then please,” she told him, before looking back at the menu, “…and a…”

 

“Hey could you hurry up please?” a gruff voice intoned from the back, “some of us need to get to work!”

 

Ah yes. An obnoxious, pantsuit-wearing business person. 

 

“Sorry!” the girl replied frantically, “that’s all thanks!”

 

Dan nodded. “Name?” he asked slowly, writing it out on the disposable cup before handing it to Phil who was staring at the line with a calculating expression. 

 

“I’ve had enough of this,” the same voice announced, before a man roughly in his thirties stomped to the front of a line, brushing off the other customers with a “well _some_ of us have well-paying jobs that they are _already_ late for.”

 

An obnoxious, pantsuit-wearing business person _with extra ego on the side._

 

_This’ll be fun._

 

“How can I help you sir?” Dan drawled, slowly and carefully, fumbling over the cups and messing around on purpose. 

 

“Medium black coffee please, and _could you be any clumsier?”_ he scoffed. 

 

“Name?” Dan smiled, pen poised above the cup. 

 

“John.”

 

Scribble. Pass the cup to Phil. Next customer. 

 

A few minutes later, he heard it:

 

_“Medium black for the ass named John who doesn’t know what patience is!”_

 

Dan barely bit back a giggle. 

 

John scowled at Phil, blushing slightly as he moved up to the counter and snatched his coffee. 

 

“You sure you’re allowed to do things like that?” he growled, smirking slightly. 

 

“Yes?” Phil replied, cocking his head to the side as if to say _why wouldn’t I be?_

 

John’s face split into a wide, shark-toothed grin. “In that case, I want to see your manager - let’s see what _he_ has to say about this,” he commanded. 

 

Oh this was just getting better and better.

 

Phil stared the seething man straight in the eye, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “I _am_ the manager,” he stage-whispered. 

 

John took a step back, eyes widening before he glowered and placed the hot drink on the counter. The man turned and ‘accidentally’ knocked the coffee over on his way out. 

 

“Sorry,” he chuckled bitterly, smiling as he pushed the door open and exited the cafe. 

 

Brown liquid dripped onto the floor, and everyone stared in stunned silence at what just happened. 

 

“Hey Dan, could you fetch me a towel please?”

 

He nodded, reached behind him for the nearest towel and threw it at Phil’s head. “Been a while since that’s happened, huh?” he asked conversationally as the noise level gradually began to rise again. 

 

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, running the cloth under the tap before mopping up the mess, “his face though.”

 

That was all it took for the pair to practically double over at the memory of John’s blotchy red face, thin lips contorted into a crude imitation of an intimidating scowl and well-pressed suit ruffled. 

 

Dan sighed happily and leant against the front counter. “I love working here,” he grinned. 

 

“Well that’s good, because I like you working here too - you’re the only one who can do the call-outs _nearly_ as good as me,” Phil smiled, straightening up and dumping the soggy towel in the sink before grabbing another one and placing it down on the floor. 

 

_“Nearly?”_ Dan repeated playfully, trying to ignore his rising pulse, “I reckon I’m 20% better than you _at least.”_

 

The other barista abandoned the rag and walked up to Dan, placing an arm either side of him on the counter and making him bend back slightly. 

 

Dan’s face felt like it was on fire and the only thing he could think was _too close too close too close._

 

_“Are_ you now?” Phil smirked. 

 

Their faces were _very extremely close_ and he couldn’t form any words. 

 

“Well _I_ think you’ve still got a long way to go.”

 

The air grew clear again as Phil moved away and went over to clean the coffee machine, a red flush creeping up his neck. 

 

Dan didn’t notice that however. 

 

He was just kinda trying to remember how to breathe.

 

No big deal. 

 

_Holy shit what the fuck just happened?_

 

He shook his head - _coffee. Focus on that. Job things you can do (except we’re closing in half an hour and it’s just going to be the two of us and I don’t think I can survive)._

 

True enough, half an hour of businesspeople, screaming children and large groups of teenagers later, they were closing. 

 

Dan grabbed the broom and began sweeping mechanically - it was usually like this, Dan awkwardly doing the cleaning and Phil taking care of the counter and the machine with practised ease. 

 

Except this time it was different. 

 

It was only a small change, but it stuck out to Dan like a rose in a field of violets. 

 

_The coffee machine was still on._

 

He could hear it- wait, _was Phil making coffee?_

 

Normally, a barrister making coffee in a coffee shop would be a perfectly normal thing, but Phil _never_ kept the machine on longer than it had to - he said it made too much noise for something as quiet as an empty cafe. 

 

Dan continued sweeping, his eyes trained on the floor but his ears honed in on the general clunks and taps of the man behind the counter. 

 

Who was making coffee. 

 

After closing. 

 

_It still didn't add up._

 

The whoosh of steam escaping from the vents stopped, there were a few final _chinks_ and _whirrs_ and then it was silent again. 

 

Dan didn’t dare look up. 

 

His heart was pounding loudly in his ears because suddenly it _was_ all too quiet for an empty cafe. Gulping nervously - although not entirely sure what there was to be nervous _about -_ Dan kept moving his arms back and forth, stepping forward slowly and white knuckles gripping the handle. 

 

It was all too quite for an empty cafe, until it wasn’t.

 

“Caramel Macchiato for the unfairly cute guy with the broom!” came Phil’s voice. 

 

Dan dropped the broom in shock. Whether it was at the sudden noise or what the man behind the counter said, he had yet to process but he scanned around the coffee shop with wide eyes, just to make sure that he was the only person with a broom. 

 

“Dan, you _do_ know there’s only two of us here, right?” Phil laughed. 

 

“Uh-umm… yea,” he fumbled, still trying to comprehend what exactly was going on.

 

Then it clicked. 

 

_He_ was the unfairly cute guy with the broom. 

 

Phil thought he was _cute._

 

A bright red flush raced up Dan’s neck and blossomed onto his cheeks as he awkwardly picked the broom up and leant it against a table, before slowly making his way towards the counter. 

 

Towards _Phil._

 

The very same Phil who he had been crushing on for the last _six fucking months._ The same Phil who had called him _cute_ not ten seconds ago. Ten _seconds_ …. was that all it had been?

 

Dan let out a breath he was all too aware he had been holding in as he stretched out his arm and took the warm disposable cup from Phil, eyes downcast and a shy, fluttery smile curved along his lips because _holy hell Phil thought he was cute and he made coffee after closing and ?? asilvnaijbkjfg?- ???_

 

“You’re blushing,” Phil giggled as he took his hand off the cup and suddenly it didn’t seem as warm. 

 

Dan looked up at him, determinedly avoiding his gaze by staring at his cheek, or his hair, or his ear or neck or- “you would be too if the guy you were crushing on spontaneously made you coffee and called you cute.”

 

Shit. He did _not_ mean to say that. 

 

Phil jumped slightly, a light rouge dusting on his cheeks at the exclamation. “You… have a crush on me?” he asked hesitantly. 

 

_No I don’t, I swear I don’t I was just kidding because literally what kind of nerd would-_

 

“Yeah.”

 

Dan’s eyes fell to the lacquered wood of the counter once again and he seriously thought _something_ in his face was gonna spontaneously combust if he blushed any brighter. 

 

The man in front of him let out a breath and smiled… and… was that… _relief_ on Phil’s face?

 

Now he was confused. 

 

“Well that just saved me about another month of trying to work up the courage to ask you out,” he smiled, leaning towards Dan slightly. 

 

“You… uh… what?”

 

“Wanna go out later?” Phil spluttered, “or like, it doesn’t have to be later - maybe tomorrow?”

 

Dan smiled, a giggle bubbling up in his throat. 

 

“I’d love too,” he agreed in a small voice. 

 

Phil leaned in closer and something inside Dan wanted to do the same. 

 

“Can… can I kiss you?” 

 

The question was barely there - a slight breath on Dan’s skin, a murmured sigh of a request. 

 

“Yes.”

 

He gave in to the urge to _be closer_ and pressed his lips against Phil’s, the short expanse of wood between them feeling entirely too large for Dan to cross. 

 

Something was welling up inside him, something that was choking up his throat, filling up his lungs and making his eyelids flutter closed as he allowed himself to be drawn in by the kiss. 

 

Air was a necessary inconvenience, Dan decided as they parted, breathing slightly heavier and staring at each other with flushed cheeks and tiny smiles. 

 

“Later’s good. I can do later,” he whispered, breaking the incomprehensible trance they had fallen under. 

 

Phil chuckled slightly as he closed his eyes and touched their foreheads together. The moment, this small, hazy bubble they had found themselves in felt like it could go on forever. 

 

Which was good, because Dan never wanted it to end. 

 

It was far too quiet for an empty cafe, because it was just the two of them, there, staring at each other with eyes reflecting the soft orange light of the sunset as London bustled outside and the world carried on as normal. 

 

And Dan wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic out of haitus and of course there’s a cheesy ending because when is there not with me?
> 
> Anyway, please tell me what you thought and feel free to point out mistakes and the like and I’ll try to (maybe) fix them ^__^
> 
> As always,
> 
> Thornsword.


End file.
